The Garden
by claudiapriscus
Summary: So many ways for a day to go bad. Corporate's breathing down their necks due to the mounting number of lawsuits, worker's comp claims, and other damages at one particular Seattle location. Ted's cracking down. And Sam just can't get a break.
1. Chapter 1

It never boded well when Ted called everyone into work early. The sudden change in the schedule had Sam entertaining thoughts of skipping work all together, but he'd figured that it'd only give Ted license to be a bigger pain in the ass. It was easier just to go with it, and so Sam found himself slouching in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs dragged out for staff meetings. To his left sat Sock, who was apparently regretting last night's drinking games. Sam was feeling just a little smug about it- Sam: 1, Vodka: 0. But he tried not to rub it in. Much.

"Hey Sock," he said.

"hrumph." Sock was still unintelligible. Sam was undeterred.

"What happened to Ben?"  
Sock slumped forward in his chair and scrubbed hard at his face with his hands, "gnurrrrughph," he said, pulling hard at his hair and then sitting up and slouching back in one uninterrupted movement.  
" Nina's. Think." He peeked up at Sam with one bleary eye before shutting it again.

"Dude, you can't be that hungover."

"'s not right, Sam. 's Much too early. For Ted and his blahblahblah. I need my coffee, Sammy. Like a normal person. Coffee." He attempted to give Sam the puppy-eyes, but ended up resembling a bug-eyed gargoyle. Sam snorted and shook his head.  
"There isn't any. Why didn't you make some at home?"

Sock mumbled something, closed his eyes and slumped down in defeat.

Ben sat down on the other side of Sock and said pointedly, "Because someone used up the last of it and didn't buy more." He reached down into his backpack and pulled out a shining silver thermos. He opened it and breathed in the decidedly coffee-scented steam rising lazily from within. Sam looked at him curiously, so he explained: "Nina made it for me. It's some sort of special demon coffee grown in Hell. It never gets cold and it's supposed to be as delicious as sin." Ben gazed off into nothing for a second, a smile on his face.  
"How delicious would sin be, exactly?" Sock interjected, not even opening his eyes. Ben ignored him.  
"Uh....Is that a good idea, Ben? Hell coffee?" Sam looked at the thermos with trepidation.

"Nina says that undiluted, it'll eat through the soft, fleshy tissues of a human's digestive system like acid, but for me she added some cream, sugar, and holy water. She said that should make it safe, as long as it's not mixed with alcohol." Sam gave him a worried look. Ben added, "Also, the thermos looks cool."

Sock cracked open an eye. "Gimme some coffee, Benji," he said, sitting up. Ben clutched the thermos to his chest protectively. "Nina gave me this. It's my special coffee."  
"Ben, come on, Ben. You know we're out at the house. And it's Ted, man. It is too early to deal with Ted."  
"You should have bought more coffee, then."  
"Don't be like that. You know me. When have I ever been the buy-it guy? And you totally owe me, after I helped you clean the rabbit cage."  
"You put the cage- with King Charlie still inside- in the trash! On garbage day! That is not helping!"  
"The rabbit had it coming! Tell him, Sammy!"  
"I am so not getting involved with this," Sam said, raising his hands, but looking amused.

Sock rubbed his face with his hands again, and gazed longingly at the thermos through his fingers. He suddenly flailed an arm towards it, hoping to catch Ben unawares.. Ben jumped back, toppling half way out of his chair, and squirmed around, trying to keep the thermos as far out of Sock's grip as possible.  
"Cut it out! You can't have my coffee, Sock!"  
Sock, with a desperation only known to the coffee-deprived, grabbed Ben's legs and tried to pull him forward enough that he could reach the coffee. Ben kicked out at him, catching him in the stomach. Sock made a sound suspiciously like, "oof!" and let go. Ben, no longer anchored in place, suddenly toppled sideways on to the floor. Ben clutched at his thermos protectively.

He looked up to find that Ted was standing over him, smirking.  
"Mr. Gonzales. Horseplay is not appropriate here at the Bench." He snatched the thermos out of Ben's grasp before he could even think to protest. He opened it up, gave it a delicate sniff and added, "Where did you get this? This is heaven in a cup, my friend." But he didn't wait for a reply before swaggering off.  
Ben was dumbstruck at his sudden misfortune. He gazed longingly at his lost coffee, something akin to a pout starting to crawl across his face.

Sock leaned over and offered him a hand up.  
"Tough break, Benji, tough break." Sock looked sympathetic for a moment before an evil grin surfaced. "Hey, look on the bright side, maybe it wasn't diluted enough and Ted will choke on it and die." The idea was obviously appealing enough to pull Sock out of his hangover-and-early-morning induced bad mood.

Ben scowled and pushed himself off the floor. "I'm not talking to you, Sock," he said, straightening out his seat and sitting down again. He attempted a manly scowl.  
"If you want to be a little girl and wahwhahwah about it, fine. Whatever." Sock crossed his arms and turned to face the front of the room.  
Sam rolled his eyes but said nothing.

A sudden CRACK sent the assembled employees jumping, jolted out of their usual stupor. Sock and Ben were startled out of their respective pouting sessions. Russell, who had been gazing off in a glazed-eyed way was looking around, wide-eyed and paranoid. Sam's shock was delayed; his first assumption had been that the Devil was screwing with him. He was more surprised to discover that it was merely a steel-yardstick-wielding Ted. He relaxed, though he was the only one to do so. Andi shot him an inquiring look, as if to ask if he knew what this was about. Sam shrugged. Whatever Ted was planning, it was almost certainly going to be short on mortal peril and long on boredom. Sam was OK with that.

Ted smacked the yardstick against the white erase board again, and satisfied that he finally had everyone's attention, set it down. He folded his hands behind his back, and leaned forward. All in all, he resembled nothing more than a very camp general surveying his troops.

"People," he said, "it has recently come to my attention...and Corporate's.... that the Bench has of late become unacceptably accident-prone. There have been some concerns about....pending lawsuits, and of course, the general health and safety of all our employees. As is incidentally mandated by OSHA." He spun on his heels, and wrote "SAFETY" on the whiteboard. Turning back, he clapped his hands together. Sock winced.

He continued. "Many incidents have obvious- and moronic- causes. There isn't time today to go into detail about the past, but let's review, people. There is to be absolutely no smoking in prohibited areas." Ted glared at Mary Pat, who merely gave him a space-y smile and a little wave. "Restocking never involves throwing merchandise." He gave the entire group a hard look, took a deep breath, and went on. "All machinery is to be operated according to the procedures outlined in the manuals. That means no paint-shaking rodeos or any other unapproved uses of the equipment."  
The last comment was directed at Sock, who made a face and pantomined blahblahblah with his hand.

Ted ignored him. "Large items, especially those stored on the upper racks, must be properly secured. We've had several incidents along those lines – that washing machine being the most memorable- and I will not have them continue under my watch. Violations will result in immediate suspension- and pending review, unemployment. I know that many of you have either ignored or misused the accident-report forms – that includes you, Mr. Wysocki- and that will stop now." His voice had been rising in volume and pitch as he went on. "We are going to document! Each! And Every! incident as accurately as possible." He twitched. "And we will review them at our new weekly safety meetings, to discuss, analyze, and resolve." He wrote "discuss, analyze, resolve" on the board, and then underlined them twice, before turning around and glaring at the assembled masses for a minute. "Now get to work, people. Try to avoid rampant acts of stupidity. I will be watching."  
With that, the ragtag group reluctantly and unevenly shambled out of the break room. Sock and Ben stayed in their seats, haggling over the price of forgiveness. Sam lingered just outside the door, discretely watching Ted take a sip of Ben's coffee. Andi came up from behind him and peaked around his shoulder and into the room.  
"Ted still sneaks Bailey's into his coffee, doesn't he?" he asked her, not moving, his eyes still on Ted.  
"Yeah, why?"  
Sam watched as Ted looked furtively around, and the opened a tiny bottle and dumped the contents into Ben's thermos.  
"Crap!"  
Sam ran back into the room.  
"Ted!"  
Ted startled and then glared at Sam. "What is it now, Mr. Oliver?"  
"Uhhm," Sam stammered. "It's Andi! Uhm. She just uh tripped on some loose cables. I think she may have broken something."  
"What?" Ted said, stricken. He set the coffee down and began a panicked search for the proper forms and the first aid kit, in that order. Andi winked at Sam through the door and then scampered off to go find a convenient place to have an "accident". and hurried out.  
"Huh," Sock remarked, shamelessly eavesdropping. "Ted looks like he's got a stick up his ass even when he's running."  
Ben got up and reached past Sam to reclaim his coffee. Sam snatched it out of his reach.  
"Hey, it's my coffee."  
"I don't think you want to drink this, Ben," Sam said nervously. He tipped it forward so that Ben could see inside. The coffee was bubbling ominously.  
"Ah," said Sock, wandering over, "a little of the..." as he pantomimed a little drink spiking.  
"Nina did say it shouldn't be mixed with alcohol. Although I thought she was just looking out for me."  
"What do we do with it?" Sam asked.  
"Pour it down the sink," Sock suggested.  
"But what if it's toxic? That does not look environmentally friendly."  
Sam shrugged. "We can't let Ted drink it."  
"Or maybe we can. Come on. Let's see what happens when Ted drinks it."  
The faint sounds of barely audible but inventive cursing drifted through the door.  
"He's coming back, Sam," Ben interjected, his tone just a little frantic.  
Sam stumbled over to the sink and dumped the coffee down the drain. He dropped the thermos on the counter, and ran back over to Sock and Ben, who were doing their best to look innocent.  
Ted stormed into the break room like a very small and vengeful thunder cloud. He did not so even as much as draw breath before launching into angry lecture about gross incompetence, juvenile pranks, and the seriousness of health and safety regulations. Ben and Sock moved to sidle out of the room and leave Sam to his fate. As quick as a striking snake, Ted turned on Sock and demanded, "Just where do you think you're going, Bert?"  
"Out, Ted. You know, to work."  
"After that little stunt? You're lucky I don't just fire you!"  
"Wait, what?"  
Ted looked smug.  
"Your little friend Andi ratted you out."  
Sock looked thunderstruck.  
Ted continued on his rant, this time clearly directing it at Sock, and evidentially feeling very satisfied with himself.  
Ben looked at Sam inquiringly, and Sam just quirked a small grin. It looked liked Andi had found a way to get her revenge on Sock. His good humor did not last long, however. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the floor...sizzling. He clutched Ben and gestured frantically at the sink. They could only look on in horrified fascination as the coffee dripped down from the remainder of the sink's drain pipe and on to the floor, where it was melting the linoleum.

Ted had resumed his pacing in front of the door, oblivious to everything but the sound of his own voice. Sock looked over at Ben and Sam, and made a "WTF" face at Sam and Ben's obvious horror. While Ted's back was turned, Sam and Ben pointed frantically at the remains of the coffee. Sock shrugged at them. Sam threw his arms up, clearly meaning to say, _What are we going to do?_ He dropped his arms in a hurry as Ted turned back around.  
Their silent conversation continued in that fashion, all furious gestures and exaggerated expressions while Ted was facing the other way, dropping down just as quickly to inexpressive feigned attention when Ted could see them.  
When Ted was once again facing Sock, Ben mouthed, _distraction?_ Sock waved an arm around vaguely to indicate that he had nothing, and then pointed at Sam before lifting his hand up to his face and wriggling his fingers at his temple. Sam rolled his eyes.

Sam turned to Ben, who just shrugged helplessly, shaking his head. He didn't have any ideas. Sam made a face at Sock.  
It was stupid. The only times he'd ever tried anything with the stupid devil powers, either nothing happened or backfired spectacularly. Sometimes both. Either way, it was a bad idea. This must have been clear on his face, as when Ted turned back around again, Sock shrugged and gestured again in a way that Sam interpreted as _it's not like we've anything to lose_. Sam waited until Ted was facing away again before sighing and making a show of his acquiescence.  
Sock gave Sam an impatient look and gestured again. _Get on with it. _

The truth was that Sam had no idea how it worked. If it hadn't been for things Tony had said and of course, the whole "almost-buried-alive" thing, Sam would have happily continued assuming that it was just another practical joke on the Devil's part. Actually, he wasn't too sure that it wasn't still just the devil fucking with him. But he'd give it a try, and then after it failed, they could try and think of something else. Maybe Andi could mount a rescue. Sam looked around for ideas, and then caught sight of the security system. _Go off, go off, go off _he thought at it. As expected, nothing happened. He looked over at Sock, who clearly wasn't buying it. Ben caught his eye and mimed taking a deep breath and concentrating. Sam looked back over at the security system. He looked at it until he went cross eyed and tried again. Nothing happened. He shrugged again. Sock began to wave his arms around enthusiastically, but was interrupted by the clearing of a throat.  
Ted's throat, to be precise. He'd apparently left off his ranting and pacing a full minute before, and none of them had noticed.  
_SHIT! _Sam thought.  
"Gentlemen," Ted said, preparing to launch back into a truly epic lecture. But he got no further, because at that very moment, the sprinklers went off, sending down torrents of dirty, rust-red water.  
After a second of blank, staring, shock, all four of them ran out of the break room and into the wet, wet chaos outside. Customers and staff alike were stampeding for the exit. A few of the more lazy staff members had simply appropriated umbrellas (on special that week for $9.99) and milled around like normal. Sam, Sock, and Ben joined the crowd making for the exits. Ted ran around in desperate little circles, calling for someone to find the shut-off valve.  
Outside it was sunny and unusually warm. Sam stood, dripping, just outside the Bench and watched dumbly as both people and water continued to flood out the doors.

Sock came up to him and slapped him hard on the back. He was grinning so hard his face looked like it was about to split in two. "Well done, man! That was AWESOME! I gotta go find a camera." And he ran off.

Sam turned to Ben, who was staring at the Bench bemusedly.  
"I wonder if I could get Nina to make me more of that coffee," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

After the morning's disaster, Sam voluntarily elected to take an early and long lunch. Not being around to see Ted finally pull himself together and get back to his life goal of making everyone's life just that much more miserable seemed like a really good idea. Sam sidled out from the slightly hysterical mob milling outside the Bench and wandered off, no particular goal nor destination in mind.

He meandered his way past the other shopping centers and through a slightly-run down neighborhood, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. His shoes made a 'squish-squelch" sound as he walked, and his still-dripping clothes sprinkled the ground with odd drops of water. A trail of them stretched out behind him, marking his path. It was an unusually nice day, more like summer than spring. The bright sunshine seemed to make everything brighter and more beautiful, even among the peeling paint and weeds.

An odd, half-assed peace came over him. Sam let his mind drift. His thoughts were hazy and only half-developed, like a murmur in the back of his head. He felt utterly relaxed, if in an utterly apathetic way. He eventually wandered his way into a small, quiet park. It was still too early for the daily swarm of kids; the playground was empty. Sam squelched his way over to a bench facing out from the little park and sprawled down on to it. He leaned off the bench a little and idly wrung his apron out, looking at nothing in particular.  
He started when he felt a hand land on his shoulder, and nearly toppled off the bench...which was now a ski lift chair, dangling high above snow covered trees. He got a death-grip on the safety bar and pushed himself up and back into the safety of the chair, though he did not relinquish his hold on the bar.  
"Watch it there, kiddo."  
If Sam's hands hadn't gone numb from his grip on the icy safety bar, he probably would have given into the urge to try and beat his own head in.  
He looked sullenly over at the Devil, who looked startlingly out of place in his suit and tie and Miami tan. The Devil flashed Sam a smile worthy of an ambulance chaser. Sam let go of the safety bar and hunched over, his arms hugging his chest in a futile effort to stay warm. An icy wind blew across the mountain, setting the chair to gently swaying. The sun was low in the sky, making it seem just that much colder.  
"I love Nevada," the Devil mused. He was entirely unaffected by the cold. "It's an entire state dedicated to vice. Booze! Loose women!Gambling!all conveniently in one location for your pleasure. Overindulgence and sin, all wrapped up in a flashy neon package."  
"Can we hurry this up,"Sam asked, a mite petulantly, as his teeth began to chatter. His experience of Nevada was more of the hot, dry desert variety. It figured that the Devil would bring him to probably the only part of it that would allow him to freeze to death.  
The Devil looked at him with a disapproving eye. "It's just work work work with you, man. You need to loosen up. Look at this place! It's magnificent." As sincerely as a politician, a note of hurt crept into his voice. "I thought you'd appreciate a little ski vacation."  
He gave the Devil his best glare. It was far less threatening than Sam imagined it."I'm going to freeze to death."  
"Don't pout at me,"the Devil said, that predatory grin once more creeping across his face, "you're the one who's always under dressed for every occasion."  
Sam crossed his arms and rolled his eyes resentfully, but didn't say anything.

The lift came to a sudden halt, sending the chair to rocking and leaving Sam vaguely motion sick on top of everything else.  
"Look at this, Sammy," the Devil said. Sam looked up and spotted a skier expertly navigating their way down the treacherous slope. "Did you know that it's on the last run that most people get hurt?" the Devil continued, his tone light. "They're tired, then. Not as in control as they'd like to think. Look at this idiot. Could have been an Olympic class skier one day." He tutted as the skier cut through some trees. "But he didn't know when to quit."  
Sam looked on in horror as the skier lost control, missed a turn, and slammed into a tree. The skier twitched once, but did not get up.  
While Sam gaped at the unmoving figure, the Devil hoisted up the safety bar. "Well kiddo," he said, "this is your stop." Sam realized what he meant just a second too late. He looked up just as the Devil gave him a shove and sent him tumbling down towards the mountain below.

Sam crash landed into a pile of empty boxes behind the Bench. He took a second to catch his breath, before shakily picking himself up. His hands and feet still felt like blocks of ice, although they were starting to sting.  
"Ah...Sam," said a voice behind him. It was Ted. "All changed and ready to get back to work, I see."  
Sam looked down at himself. His clothes which had been wet - or at least frozen- not a minute before were now dry and pristine.  
Sam numbly let Ted herd him back into the Bench where he was handed a mop and told to get to it.  
His morning really sucked.


	3. Chapter 3

Andi hummed to herself as she shuffled a few tall, leafy plants around in garden supplies. Her tune may have been lacking in musicality and even tonality, but she was too absorbed with other thoughts to either notice or care .She picked up a fern and spun it around in a circle before depositing it next to the others. She tipped an imaginary hat to her erstwhile dance partner, and mimed setting the hat (some sort of sexy top hat, she thought) back on her head at a decidedly jaunty angle.

All in all, it was a good day. She grinned to herself. The image of Ted running around in agitated little circles ran in a continuous loop in her mind, and with any luck, it would say with her until her dying day. A memory to sustain her even through the hardest of times. She gave a ceramic gnome a happy little pat on the head and stepped back to survey her work. And there it was. Her own tiny, perfect oasis masquerading as a corporate-approved display. She walked over to the storage room and rooted around until she found what she was looking for: a slightly defective reclining lounge chair that was currently substituting as the final resting place of a number of random garden supplies.

She dumped the smaller items in a box in the corner; the larger ones she just shoved off on to the floor. She grabbed one end of the chair and started dragging, though she did not get very far. The other end had caught on the doorway. She tried to shake the chair free, mentally cursing all "slightly defective" merchandise. She glared at the chair, but to no avail. It was a two-person job. She set the chair down, then looked around at various bits of greenery with a calculating look in her eye. She finally settled on a dwarf lemon tree. She hoisted it up and marched back into the Bench building, juggling the plant and attempting to find the perfect balance between looking overwhelmed and looking nonchalant. Both the former and the latter would invite attention, the very opposite of what she was trying to achieve. She strode up and down the aisles, looking about as purposeful as she could while actually wandering semi-aimlessly. She hoped he hadn't thought to take advantage of the chaos the sprinklers had created to wonder off unnoticed...at least not without letting her come, too.  
Aha! She was in luck.

"Sam," she called. Sam looked up from the floor tiles he had been mopping. Actually, calling it mopping was something of an exaggeration, Andi mentally amended.  
"Hey, Andi."She couldn't quite see his face through the branches of the tree, but his tone was definitely on the mopey side. He stabbed at the floor with the mop again, although his heart clearly wasn't in it. The mop trailed through the brackish water like a squid with a hangover. It did not serve to make the floor any cleaner.  
Andi juggled the lemon tree around to try and see more of Sam than his feet.  
"Can you help me for a minute with something in Gardening?"  
"Sure," he said. The ghost of a smirk crossed his face. "It's not the lemon tree, is it?"  
"Nah, " she said, "this is just a prop. It says: "I'm busy, don't bother me unless you want a face full of tree thorns". I need another person to help me drag something outta the storage room out back."  
"Sure thing."  
She flashed him a smile that was parts triumphant and devious all in one. "I think you might find it worth your while." She shifted the lemon tree around in her arms again and set off in the direction of Gardens. Sam counted to thirty before setting the mop against a shelf and following as quickly as possible, trying to school his expression into something as purposeful. He skidded around a corner, spotted Ted coming down the aisle, and ducked behind a refrigerator. As soon as Ted had turned down into Plumbing instead, he resumed his course, although this time he tried for nonchalance. When he reached Home & Gardens, he spent a few seconds fiddling with a display before glancing around and sidling outside. Andi was nowhere to be seen.  
"Andi?"  
"Hey, Sam." Andi's head popped up from behind some tall, leafy plants. "Come look"  
"How did you get back there?" Sam wouldn't have guessed that there was so much as a hiding spot back there, and he couldn't see anything resembling so much as an entrance.  
"Just a sec."  
Andi moved the dwarf lemon tree over and then pushed the bottlebrush out, leaving a passable gap.  
Sam squeezed in.  
Andi had some how managed to create a mini little secret garden, complete with a tiny rock fountain, some sweet-smelling flowers, and garden gnome.  
"You've created another Ted-free zone?"  
"it's an everything-free zone. Including...." She nodded at the floor.  
Sam looked down. He could only see bits and pieces, for most of it seemed to be covered with plants but...it definitely looked like Andi had used duct tape and a spare hose to sketch out-  
"Is that a circle?"  
Andi grinned at him. "It just needs one more thing."  
"And what's that?"  
"The lounge chair stuck in the storage room." Andi squeezed through the gap.  
"The one where it's pretty much permanently stuck upright?"  
"Yup. C'mon, let's grab it. I'll push the back down if you'll pull it out."  
Sam followed her out.

It took a few tries, but they eventually managed to wrangle the chair out of the storage room and into Andi's time-out space. When they were both inside, Andi placed the lemon tree and bottlebrush back in their designated spots and sank down into the lounge chair. She patted the spot next to her.  
"Sit down, Sam. It only works if you don't have your head out where people can see you."  
As he sat, she added:  
"Plus, it makes it easier to do this." She pulled him into a deep kiss, only to yelp and pull away when he slid his hand around her neck.  
"Jesus, your hands are cold." Andi complained.  
Sam shoved his hands in his apron pockets.  
"Sorry. I forgot. They're still kinda numb."  
"What happened?"Andi wished she could sound a little less incredulous, but damn. It was really bad timing for hands colder than death. She tugged at one of his arms until he relented and pulled his hand out of the pocket. She grabbed it and clasped it between her own, gently massaging his palm with her thumbs.  
"The Devil," Sam said, scowling. It was not a very threatening-looking scowl. Andi's outrage warred with a desire to hug the cute right out of Sam. No one over the age of four should look so adorable while pouting. Eventually outrage managed to win out.  
"What he do, take you on a field trip to the Artic?"  
"Close enough. Ski resort in the Sierras." Sam kicked a planter before glaring at it as if it had insulted him personally. "I think he gets off on torturing me."  
"So who's the soul this time? A skier or something?"  
"No soul. He just wanted to show me some poor guy smashing into a tree. Or push me off the lift chair. Both, I guess. I think he's still pissed about me, you know, trying to get out of the contract."  
Andi bit her lip and let out an almost-sigh. She thought differently, but didn't say anything. Instead, she grabbed his other hand and subjected it to the same treatment as the other.  
"Better?" she asked.  
He smiled his crooked little smile at her. "Definitely."  
She leaned against him in companionable silence and watched the wind ruffle the leaves. After a moment, she said, "You know, I hear Sock managed to immortalize Ted's freak-out."  
"Pictures?"  
"Better." Her glee was a little unnerving. Her smile displayed too many teeth for comfort. "Video."  
"I thought you were the one who was all, "oh no, it's fine, I hated being manager anyway," huh?"  
"Ted is still an epic tool. I'm not inclined to forget it any time soon."  
"I don't think you're going to have a chance to. After today, he's going to be riding our asses to cover his." He sighed.  
"Those morons couldn't have picked a worse time to mess with the sprinklers."  
Sam shifted his weight and toyed with a leaf he'd pulled from the nearest plant. He blurted, "Andi, I'm sorry."  
Andi pushed herself away from Sam so that she was sitting upright and facing him.  
"Wait, you knew? You knew what the wonder twins were planning?" Her head was tilted at a dangerous angle, and her tone put Sam in mind of knives. Dipped in liquid nitrogen.  
"Wait, uh, what?"  
"Rob and Ed. You knew they were planning to set off the sprinklers?"  
Sam backpedaled.  
"I thought you were happy about the sprinklers thing! No, I thought..."  
"It was idiotic! the consequences were funny, but not really worth it, Sam! Why didn't you say anything?"  
"Rob and Ed set off the sprinklers?"  
Andi paused. The mix of guilt and bemusement crossing Sam's face threw her.  
"You didn't know? What are you apologizing for?"  
"I thought it was, uh, my fault, you know? Like, um..." he glanced around, and lowered his voice, vaguely dreading Andi's reaction. "The wine bottle."  
"Sam, we work with a store full of people who are always pulling shit like this."  
"Yeah, but Ted had us cornered, Andi. And- pretty much everything he mentioned in the meeting today was caused by the Devil and demons and escaped souls. And me. I think. Maybe."  
Andi threw her head back and laughed. She rubbed her hand across her face and leaned back against Sam. His befuddlement sent her back into gales of laughter.  
Sam smiled at her, just a tad cautiously.  
"It's just...despite all the shit we're gonna catch for all that in his stupid review meetings....I can't wait to see how Ted copes with "the devil made me do it" as an explanation."  
Sam's smile widened into something a little more genuine, and then he laughed himself.  
"Yeah, me too."  
After a few minutes, Andi sighed and sat up. "C'mon, we should probably get back to work before someone notices that we're MIA."  
She stood and began to rearrange the plants to allow passage out. She squeezed through the gap, and Sam followed. No sooner had he exited Andi's hidden garden lair than he tripped and faceplanted on to the concrete.  
"Ow."  
Andi whirled around and sank down to help Sam up. Sam gingerly picked himself up and looked around to see what he'd tripped on. Great, he thought. There, at the very edge of Andi's duct-tape circle, was a vessel box.

"Too late," he sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

Andi reached down and picked the box up. She studied it critically for a second before holding it out Sam expectantly.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess I should. Getting stalked by a box is less fun than it sounds."

He took the box and set it on a nearby shelf before flipping up the catches and lifting the lid. The usual belch of fire and brimstone rolled out, revealing something vaguely brick-shaped and institutional looking nestled deep within.

Andi snorted and rolled her eyes. "Hmph."

"What?" Sam grinned at her expression.

"Who knew Hell was so tacky?"

"Hey, it's a creepy box. It's got demon-heads and everything. And it's kinda evil." He rubbed his cheek gingerly.

"It's about as scary as you as a pumpkin," Andi said with salacious smirk.

"Hey, that scared _me_." Sam's lips curved up into a half grin.

Andi gave him a look so lecherous and exaggerated that it verged on pantomime. She held it for a moment before her eyes cut back down to the box sitting ominously on the shelf. Andi could not escape the insane notion that it was watching her. She ran a hand through her hair and let out an exhalation that was not quite a sigh. It was embarrassing that something so cheesy could make her feel as if she had snakes writhing around her spine and into her belly.

"So what is it?" she finally asked.

Sam reached in and lifted out the vessel, turning it this way and that, wondering if it were in fact what it seemed to be.

Andi cocked her head to the side, her eyebrows scrunched up. "Is that a...credit card-" Andi paused and snapped her fingers a few times before waving her hand vaguely in the air, "uh, what, imprinter?"

Sam shrugged. "Credit card manual swiper-thingy?" He gave it an experimental poke, sliding the carriage from one side to the other. "I guess."

"So...are you supposed to brain the soul with it, or what?"

Sam hefted it thoughtfully. It was heavy enough, but awkward.

"Maybe they've got some weird shopping power."

Sam, still bouncing the thing thoughtfully in one hand, turned and started to wander back into the store. Andi trailed along, frowning. "Like what, Pretty Woman?"

Sam twitched his shoulders. "Dunno." He thought about it for a second and said, "So like magic hooker powers?"

Andi rolled her eyes and shoved Sam through the doors. The store was, surprisingly, looking better. The floors had been mopped up and the building had been apparently stripped of every last piece of waterlogged paper.

"Ted must have really been slave-driving," Andi remarked, looking around.

"Good thing we were in the Ted-free-zone," Sam smirked at her. She returned his grin.

"God, you two are worse than Ben and Nina. Seriously."

Sam and Andi glanced around, but saw nothing but patio furniture and hot tub displays. Sock appeared suddenly, popping up from the inside of an enclosed gazebo. He was followed by Ben, who was apparently unperturbed by the comparison. Sam frowned at the gazebo. He half expected Ben to be followed by the rest of the store or, failing that, a whole posse of clowns. He took half a step forward and peered into the gazebo. It was even smaller inside than it looked, and it was empty, except for a scattering of empty bags of chips and random soda bottles.

"How long have you guys been hiding in there?" He was torn between incredulity and admiration.

Sock looked over at Ben, who shook his head and shrugged.

"Too long, Sammy, too long," Sock concluded.

"Ted found out about the youtube video," Ben interjected.

Sam raised his eyebrows. Andi looked thoughtful.

"You'd think most people would be happy to be famous," Ben remarked.

"The man has no appreciation of art, Benji, none at all." Sock was beginning to get upset.

Ben patted him on the arm.

"I know, Sock, I know." From his expression, this was something Ben had been doing all afternoon. As an aside to Sam and Andi, Ben added, "15,000 viewings already. Everyone says it's going to be the next star-wars kid."

"What exactly did you guys do?" Andi demanded incredulously.

A smile crashed across Sock's face, wiping away his sudden bout of melancholy. "I synced it to a remixed version of _Singing in the Rain_."

Ben nodded appreciatively. "You should be proud, Sock."

"How did Ted find out about it?" Sam asked with his eyebrows drawn but a smile on his lips.

"Oh, that's the best part. His mom sent it to him," Sock crowed.

Andi smirked, then winced. "What's the damage?"

"Weeelllll." Sock sucked on his teeth, "You might want to avoid Ted for the next five to ten years."

"It might be safe now though," Ben reasoned, "We heard from Phil that Ted's been brooding in his office for the last hour or so."

Andi nodded at the gazebo. "So why stay camped out in there?"

"Go fish," Ben remarked sagely, and Sock nodded along with him.

"Okaaay," Andi said. She shrugged her head from side to side and then rolled her shoulders, "Well, whatever. I'm gonna go catch a late lunch." She raised an eyebrow at Sam, the invitation obvious, before wandering off.

"I'll catch up later with you guys. See you at home?" Sam asked.

"Sure thing," Sock said. As Sam began to walk away, Sock called out after him, "Go have your little afternoon quickie."

Sam turned his head and called back, "Maybe I will." before sauntering off.

Sock looked at Ben, then back at Sam's retreating form. He yelled, "well..you...uh," before trailing off.

"Yeah, I got nothing."

"We need to work on your comebacks, Sock," Ben said pointedly.

"Yeah, whatever. Go fish, Benji."

They ducked back into the gazebo.

Ben's reply drifted out into the aisles. "That is exactly what I'm talking about."

* * *

**A/N **_This really should have been the second half of the last chapter, but I needed to futz around with it some more so now it's kind of an odd little chapter of its own. _


	5. Chapter 5

Sam glanced apprehensively at Ted's office as he hurried past. The door was shut, the blinds closed, and the lights out. _Ted must be massively sulking in there_, he thought, relaxing just a little. It'd be a lot easier to sneak out this way. He rounded a corner. The doors were in sight. He picked up his pace, scurrying forward while casting a glance back in the direction of Ted's office. _All clear_. Andi was probably just outside, waiting. Just a few more feet...

His brain had already left the building when I hand reached out at the last moment and snagged him by the shoulder. His forward momentum nearly carried him off his feet. Regaining his balance, he spun around, wielding the vessel in a hopefully threatening way.

Instead of the enraged soul he half-expected, it was Ted who stood behind him, gaping. Ted blinked at him.

"Uh....sorry." He swallowed, and lowered the vessel, feeling sheepish. His heart continued to pound in his chest. He took a deep breath.

"You....um...startled me." He bit his lip.

"I can see that,"Ted snapped, no longer speechless. He eyed Sam suspiciously. He peered down at the object in Sam's hand.

"Is that a credit card imprinter?"

Sam nodded mutely.

Ted did a double take. Perplexed, he asked, "What were you planning on doing, braining me with it...?" He trailed off, then shook it off, remembering himself.

"Never mind. I don't really want to know." Ted drew himself up. "Lunch breaks are canceled," he barked in that nasally whiny tone everyone hated, "I just got off the phone with Corporate. They're sending some higher ups tomorrow to assess the situation and make their recommendations. This means playtime is over. Tell your little friends."

Sam simply nodded, mind elsewhere. For while Ted was congratulating himself on his stern and managerial style, Sam was too busy mentally kicking himself for getting caught by Ted twice in one day to pay him much attention.

Something must have given him away, because Ted shouted, "Mr. Oliver!" in his most pissy tone.

Sam idly wondered if Ted's head might actually explode. His face was certainly red enough, and tightly pinched. Sam was saved from finding out by an ominous creaking. Ted spun around, eyes wide and panicked. Sam edged closer the doors, remembering with trepidation the time the Devil sent every rack in the store cascading down in grand domino style. The sound continued, growing more and more ominous to Ted's obvious agitation.

Finally, it happened. On the edge of his vision, Sam caught a glimpse of something teetering and then snapping free. Metal rang out against metal. Glass shattered. It seemed to go on longer than seemed reasonable. Wincing, Ted and Sam both turned towards Ted's office, only barely visible from that angle.

The crash itself was a little bit anti-climatic in comparison to Ted's reaction, the kind of gaping horror usually reserved for post-apocalyptic horror movies. He looked like someone had run over his puppy and then offered him puppy-roadkill stew.

Ted's office had gained a washing machine and half a dozen wrench sets. The washing machine was a crumpled wreck outside his door, and the wrenches were scattered around it. Broken glass twinkled like glitter under the lights. Ted looked like he was going to cry. Sam shifted awkwardly. Ted pressed the knuckles of his hand hard into his forehead, took a deep breath, and walked unsteadily towards the staff room. Sam could hear him muttering to himself about forms and regulations.

Sam considered going and inspecting the damage himself, out of sheer morbid curiosity, but decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth. He would not get a better distraction. He turned to go and slip through the doors. Bright sunshine and Andi were waiting for him, just outside. But as he took that final step towards freedom, he found himself in hell.

Literally.

"Goddamnit!" he yelled. He spun around and gave the looming gates a heartfelt kick. They clanged balefully in response. Sam gritted his teeth and limped away. Apparently kicking the gates to hell was a bad move.

"Unoriginal but apt." The Devil stepped out of the tortured shadows behind Sam.

"What am I doing here?" Sam demanded.

The Devil laughed. "Aw Sammy, you're so cute when you're being forceful. No worries though. I haven't called your number yet."

"So why...?" His voice faltered, so he gestured at the foreboding black gates, the writhing flames beyond, and the tortured shadows they threw up upon the cave walls instead. Something cold slithered down his spine. It was actually... really intimidating now that he actually looked at it.

"Oh, just a little errand." He strode over to the gates, which opened at his touch. "No dawdling. You might get lost, and we couldn't have that now, could we?"

Sam trailed behind him hesitantly, memories of demons strolling out of the portal to hell still on fire bursting in front of his eyes, in HD, 3-D, whatever-D quality picture and sound. He lingered at the entrance. The Devil crossed his arms and looked at him impatiently.

"Contrary to popular opinion, I don't have all day here."

"Uhm...isn't this like sudden death or something? You know, Hell?"

"This? Please, Sam, give me some credit here!" The Devil seemed half amused and half offended. "This is Disneyland, Sammy. It's for the tourists." He waved a hand dismissively."You'll see the real thing someday, kiddo, and then you'll understand."

He turned and headed down the path stretching out before the gates.

Sam followed, slouching and dragging his feet all the way.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam was bored. He hadn't given much thought to religion, but he was pretty sure that the descent into Hell – or the Disney Hell Experience or whatever this was – wasn't supposed to be _dull_. Oh, it had been creepy at first.

The Devil had lead him down a trecherous, rocky path to a nightmarish little train. It looked like something out of a Tim Burton movie, gothic and rickety, but it carried a sense of menance straight out of any number of horror films. It looked like the kind of thing that would chase people down and then eat them. Sam approached it with a healthy dose of caution, just in case it was feeling hungry. He felt silly a moment later, when upon closer inspection, it was a lot smaller than he had first assumed. He towered over it, which was not impressive at all-

"A _kiddie_ train?" Sam demanded, all injured pride. Not that he had much left at this point,but still.

"Only the best for you, kiddo," said the Devil cheerfully.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, clambering in before the Devil got it into his head to manhandle him into it. By the time he managed to wedge himself on to the bench seat, his knees were practically parallel with his ears. He shifted uncomfortably.

"What's the point of all this?" he couldn't quite help himself from blurting out.

"Sammy, Sammy," the Devil clucked his tongue. "Only one way in for those who want their bodies still attached to their souls- which I'm assuming you do, you realize- so no short cuts and no exceptions," he chided. At Sam's petulant look, he continued, "You're a lucky man, Sammy-boy. Most people have to walk. So stay seated and keep your arms and legs inside the carriage at all times, capiche?"

"Aren't you coming with me?" Sam asked, startled. He hadn't expected Hell, but he certainly hadn't expected having to go through Hell alone.

"Be a big boy. I can't stand around all day holding your hand, Sam."

With that the train/kiddie-ride thing took off with a lurch. The devil had waved merry as Sam rode out of sight. _Bastard_, Sam thought.

So off he'd gone through hell. There'd been vistas overlooking lakes of fire, and damned souls screaming. It was less nerve wracking than he might have assumed, given the circumstances. But while the first lake of fire is impressive, the fifteenth is not all that shocking. As to the damned...well, it was kind of like being stuck in haunted house ride at a carnival, Sam figured. It startled you at first, but then it kind of fades into background noise. He'd been kind of disturbed at first to realize that the screaming was being deftly manipulated by presumable and unseen demons into resembling a quite catchy version of that chips ahoy song. He kept catching his fingers tapping it.

It was his growing motion sickness more than anything that detracted from the overall effect. The train had an odd hitching motion as it moved forward, like a car suddenly accelerating and braking. This, combined with the endless side-to-side rocking had Sam clinging to the edge of his seat and trying not to look at anything.

Sam was incredibly relieved when the train coasted to a stop. He closed his eyes and took a few measured breaths to try and settle his nausea.

"Don't worry about it," said a voice to his right.

Sam jumped. He immediately regretted this – "Ouch!" - as it accomplished nothing more than banging his head against the ceiling of the train. He rubbed his head resentfully and looked over to see who had spoken.

A demon stood next to the train, casually leaning against a lamp post and holding onto the leash of a three-headed dog. From the inside of the train, Sam could dimly see a far and frozen plain beyond the circle of light thrown by the lamp. The dog was rolling in the dirty snow and seemed quite happy with itself. The demon ignored it.

"Seriously, everyone gets a bit sick riding that contraption," the demon continued, "But it usually passes by the time you reach the river."

"Uh...Thanks."

"Don't mention it. I'm George, by the way. So I hear you work upstairs, with Gladys," the demon said, not quite casually enough.

"Yeah- I guess. Maybe."

The demon perked up at that, unable to disguise its interest.

"Do you know, is she seeing anyone?"

"Gladys?!"

"No, you're right. I heard she hooked up with some hot soul."

"An escaped soul!"

"Yeah, those office romances never last. Well, tell her I said hi and that the fourth circle just hasn't been the same since she left."

"Ok...sure." Sam looked around a little bit more interestedly. "So this is the fourth circle of hell?"

"Eh, close enough. Tourists, you know." The demon rolled its eyes. "The boss is a traditionalist when it comes to publicity. That's how I got stuck here with the mutt."

One of the dog's heads growled at this.

"Oh whatever, dog," the demon muttered back.

"So...umm...."

"George," the demon supplied.

"Right, George. Uh. Am I like, supposed to get out now, or what?"

"Oh! Right. No. I owed a guy a favor. He needs a ride to the fifth circle. Do you mind?"

Sam gaped at the demon, unsure what to say, but it didn't matter as the demon was already turning and gesturing to a figure getting closer at an alarming rate, just outside the lamplight.

"There he is. Great guy, you know – but, just between you and me- he's kind of a weirdo. Kinda missed the "die and go to hell" memo, if you know what I mean."

"Rigght." Sam didn't want to ask.

The figure came to a skidding stop, barely avoiding tripping over the dog.

"John! You made it." The demon called out.

"Hey, George! Thanks for this."

"Better hurry it up, your ride's about to leave."

"Yeah, yeah, but I- " John trailed off when he caught sight of the train.

Sam's jaw dropped.

"Dad?"

"Hey, son."


	7. Chapter 7

Sam had come to accept a certain level of weirdness in his life, and to a great degree it didn't really faze him...though being crammed next to his zombie father on the literal kidde ride from hell hit new levels of awkward, if nothing else.

His father, on the other hand, cheerfully plowed forward, oblivious to Sam's discomfort. It was just like being in high school all over again.

"So...how's your mother?"

"Uh, fine? I guess." Sam fidgeted for a second, but cramped quarters forced him to stop.

"Good, good. So tell me, how are things with Andi?"

"Look, Dad...no offense, but isn't this kind of a bad time for a father-son chat?"

His dad looked around thoughtfully, taking in the landscapes of the damned, the stupid little train, and Sam, still dressed in his Work Bench best and looking green around the gills. He shrugged.

"I just wanted to spend some real quality time with you. All these months in hell, I've missed our, you know. I've missed my family."

Sam slumped back in his seat and blew out a breath. Not that he wished his dad was dead and gone in the normal sense or anything, but it seemed cosmically unfair that his father was still around to lay down guilt trips about dying.

"Sorry. I'm just, you know. Hell. It's very stressful," he said with some heat.

"I understand. Why _are_ you doing here in hell, anyway? Not that I'm not glad to see you, Sam, but uh, Hell is not exactly Cancun."

"So I've heard," Sam remarked wryly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Inside joke." Sam explained. "Nah, I don't know. Devil business or something."

"Ah. Gotcha. You watch out while you're down here."

"It's Hell. I sort of guessed," Sam said drily, eyebrows arching in amusement.

"No, I mean it. There are some bad crowds that run around here, and you need to steer clear of them, and that's that."

Sam was unable to escape the feeling he'd just been forbidden from hanging out with the creepy kid down the street.

"Fine, Dad. It's not like I was going to run off and join like...a hell gang or anything."

"Sam-!" His father bit off whatever he was going to say, pursed his lips, and glanced heavenward, as if praying for guidance, which should have been funnier than it actually was.

"Sorry! I just don't know what you want me to do!" Sam said, exasperation getting the better of him. "I didn't want to be here, and it's not like I've got a lot of choice about any of this."

His dad nodded gamely, but he frowned, looking both concerned and parental. Sam was reminded of that time he'd confessed to failing biology.

"I want you to be safe. I swear to God, I just want you to be safe, and that's it."

"Ok, Dad. Sure." He rolled his eyes. _Why does he have to always go so weird at such awkward moments, _ Sam bitched to he reconsidered. _That_ was weird? Compared to zombie-dad and , you know, hell? Maybe Andi was right. They were getting too used to this.

"So!" his father said brightly, "How's Andi?"

Sam felt his shoulders slump. Fantastic. Just as he resigned himself to another eternity of awkward conversation, a sly thought presented itself: maybe brutal honesty would head it off at the pass.

"She sold her soul to the devil so I could challenge him to a game of quarters," he said all in one breath.

"What?"

"You know, the whole getting out of my deal thing."

His father looked flabbergasted.

"You challenged him to _quarters_?" his father blurted, unable to contain himself, too shocked to even begin to process that.

_Hah! _Sam thought, proud for half a second before he remember how not good it all was.

"It's what I'm good at," Sam said, stubbornness creeping into his tone.

"You lost, then?" His father asked sharply. "Dammit."

"I wouldn't have if Steve hadn't broken my hand," Sam said, suddenly feeling more than a little defensive.

"Steve...? Demon security system designer, Steve?"

"You knew Steve?" Sam gaped at his father. Point to his dad: apparently shock could be a two way street.

"Of course, who do you think designed the system for the house?"

Sam shook himself and tried to stop gaping like a fish. "He isn't a demon any more. He's an angel but he totally sold us out."

"An angel?! But- " His father cut himself off, and then pulled himself together "Right. Hmm." He looked pensive.

"So, uh, why didn't you leave with Nina?" Sam asked, eager to hit the ball of awkward conversational topics back into his father's court. He wasn't sure when it had turned into a contest.

His father hesitated. "I still have things to do. And you still need to get out of your contract," he said heartily.

The train lurched its way up another hill, and Sam found himself lurching to the next incredibly awkward conversation topic.

'So, you're looking less...dead."

"I am, I am. Hell has been good for me. Well, you know, not...but still. I cannot tell you what a relief it is to not worry about body parts falling off."

"Rigght." Damn. Point to his dad _again. _

"I'm halfway to figuring a way to keep it like this," his dad said with some confidence, "and then it'll be just like old times." He smiled a nostalgic little smile.

"O-kay then," Sam said, surrendering. There were no winners in the game of "Awkward Conversations with Your Dad," even in circumstances as strange as these.

The train chugged its way up and over a bridge.

"Oh, look at that," his dad said, looking down at the murky waters below. Guess this is my stop."

Sam gave him a bewildered look. The train was still in motion and gave no sign of stopping.

"It was good to see you Sam. Hopefully next time it'll be up top," his Dad said, standing as best he could in the little cabin. He began clambering out the side.

"Wait! What are you doing?" Sam demanded, leaping forward and grabbing at his father.

"Take care!" His dad shouted back at him, before leaping off the train and plunging into the swamp below with remarkable aplomb...and good form, too. Nary a ripple could be seen on the surface.

Sam stared aghast at the waters below until it pulled out of sight. He collapsed back down into the uncomfortable little bench feeling just a little shell shocked over the whole thing. He almost didn't notice as the train finally chugged its way to a stop outside some great stone walls.

"Ah, there you are," the Devil said brightly, appearing out of nowhere for all Sam knew. "Good. Let's go, Sammy-boy, get a move on already."

Dazed, Sam let the Devil drag him off the train. He trailed after him somewhat reluctantly, honestly too overwhelmed to put up much of a fight. His life was_ weird_.


End file.
